


Maybe it's the danger, maybe it's you

by Notawriterjustalurker



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Karen Page, Blood and Injury, Eventual Smut, F/M, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Post-Season/Series 03, Violence, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23703826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notawriterjustalurker/pseuds/Notawriterjustalurker
Summary: A new wave of crime is impacting the streets of Hell's Kitchen. Karen takes it upon herself to find the perpetrator where Matt has failedMulti chapter fic (marked explicit for later chapter)
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Karen Page
Comments: 24
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this is just a Karen Page appreciate fic because she's badass and I love her 😂  
> I don't normally atempt the whole multi chapter thing but I wanted to try it out with this one.  
> I hope you enjoy ❤️
> 
> Ill update later this week 😁

Most people are just trying to outlast the storm, but Karen doesn't remember a time of blue skies, her entire life has been a storm, and she's beginning to think that navigating the waves is what she's always been destined to do. She understands now, more than ever, that when Matt says he can see a city on fire, that it never really burns out, even after you think you've extinguished every ember.

And while Fisk's return to prison had given everyone else a brief moment of tranquility, Karen had found herself hunkering down, preparing herself for whatever the next thing may be, because if there's one thing Hell's Kitchen had taught her, it's that there's  _ always _ a next thing. 

Matt had found out early on that the criminals behind the latest series of gruesome murders were drug runners - nothing new there, but the thing that was different and the thing that nauseated Karen to the pit of her stomach was that many of the victims were teenagers. Unsurprisingly, these weren't kids that were well to do. These were homeless kids, vulnerable kids, kids that wouldn't shy away from a generous cash handout from a stranger with the sweet promise of more if they were willing to put themselves in harm's way. These kids were the perfect disposable employees for a budding criminal enterprise. 

For weeks Matt had been exuding nothing but bitter frustration at the matter. He'd been out almost every night, tirelessly searching for a perpetrator that never appeared and it had been a strain not only on him but on Nelson, Murdock & Page as well. 

One night he'd come back with a name.

The Specter.

He'd mouthed it over and over like if he said it enough times maybe he'd summon him, but sadly, this wasn't that kind of ghost. 

So he'd begged Karen to put the word out on the street and she'd held him tight and promised him that she would because it was in her nature to get to the truth, and he didn't know it, but really, truthfully, it all came back down to him. The driving force behind the reason she did so many things.

Her investigations had led her to a person of interest pretty quickly. A boy, no older than 17 who was a friend of one of the victims had agreed to meet her insisting that he was fleeing town - god knows she knew how that felt. The boy, who refused to give his name, confirmed that The Specter, was just that, an apparition, no one really knew what he looked like. 

"You won't know him when you see him" he'd said.

"He could be sat with us right now and you'd never know it." 

That thought had terrified her. 

The description she had to go off was vague to say the least. Apparently he was a slight man, unthreatening in stature, often wearing jeans or a not-quite-right fitting-suit, nothing that screamed wealth or power. His right hand man, the "executioner" had one marked characteristic, a missing pinky finger. The boy's friend had noticed it one of the last times he'd been bundled into the back of a van, his blindfold had been too loose and he'd caught a glimpse of the man's hands - probably part of the reason he wasn't here today.

Karen was surprised when the boy had said there was a chance he was going to appear at one of the city's fanciest hotels. 

"They use hotels as slaughterhouses, he likes to do that shit in plain sight, he gets off on it."

She'd rolled her eyes a little at the theatre of it all, but the restlessness of his hands and the fear in his eyes was all too painfully familiar.

Karen thanked the boy and slid him 50 dollars across the table, he snatched the money like a starved animal. "Leave tonight" she'd said.

* * *

The lobby of the hotel was high brow - the marble floor shimmered under a ceiling of chandeliers and the sound of ice inside cocktail shakers rumbled loudly above the low hum of ambient music. Everywhere she looked there were small groups of people milling around, women in cocktail dresses and men in suits leaning against bars and standing in corners. Sure, it looked like a party but the atmosphere was cultivated, no one here was really having a good time. 

At the cost of what felt like a small mortgage she'd managed to book a suite at a last minute  _ discounted _ price. She checked in at the desk and ordered herself a cocktail at the bar. 

"Waiting for someone to join you Madame?" The waiter said. 

She wasn't in the mood to smile but she forced herself to humour him -

"Something like that."

An hour ago she'd slipped into her best cocktail dress, a black, backless number, easily the sexiest thing she owned - she'd put on her stilettos, which she never wore because in them she towered above most people, including Matt and Foggy, and she hated the attention that that got her. Tonight was different, tonight she needed to avoid looking like a journalist - she needed to look provocative, like stroking the stem of a martini glass was her second favourite hobby, like she was waiting for a man, and a sophisticated one at that. The last thing she'd packed before leaving for the night was her gun - she tucked it neatly into her tiny clutch bag which now weighed heavy on the crook of her elbow. 

Matt didn't know she was here tonight. She'd told him she was on a steak out - technically she hadn't lied, but the guilt still sat like a stone in her gut. It couldn't be helped though, he'd only have had one thing to say -

_It's too dangerous Karen - I don't want you to get_ _hurt_.

But she'd lost count of the amount of times she'd scraped her knees crawling into the dens of wolves. Maybe she enjoyed the thrill.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a man beside her.

"A Jefferson on the rocks please" He said.

She couldn't place his accent, American Italian maybe? He was too close to get a look at his face without it being obvious but she could tell that he was handsome, tall and respectable looking.

"A beautiful woman like you shouldn't be sitting here all alone." 

Karen was caught off guard, "uh, I'm- waiting for someone," she stuttered, "it's just business." 

"Oh." He perched on the stool beside her, his knees splaying confidently as he leaned one elbow on the bar - she thought about how a cigar wouldn't have looked out of place in his hand. He was good looking and dark haired, like Matt, but sharp featured. He had a set of cheek bones you could cut yourself on, the bone structure of a model with bottomless dark brown eyes - black even, and she couldn't read anything in them. They certainly didn't feel inviting.

"If it's just business you won't mind me buying you a drink? No agenda, I just can't stand to see a beautiful woman with an empty glass."

Uh. Charming too. And her glass  _ was  _ empty. Maybe she was just too used to Josie's second rate liquor.

"A Manhattan then," and she let her tongue dart to the corner of her mouth.

The man slid her drink over to her along the sleek metal bar front as she watched his hands carefully. She'd learnt, same as most women, that it was unwise to trust strange men in bars, and something about him _was_ off, her gut had known it the minute he'd walked over -

Then she noticed his fingers - or rather, lack thereof.

She tried hard to suppress the panic that was rising in her throat.

_ Was he? _

Had she just  _ flirted _ with a murderer? And more importantly, did he recognise her? 

A chill ran through her as the man placed a chivalrous kiss on her knuckles, "Enjoy your drink and have a great night, Miss… I didn't catch your name?" 

"Pippa. Pippa Michaels"

He smiled kindly before wandering off to the other side of the lobby. She pulled out her phone and hit the first number on her speed dial.

"Matt he's here" she whispered with the phone tucked under her veil of hair.

"Who? Karen what are you talking about?"

"This Specter guy. He's here - somewhere.. I'm at the Renaissance Hotel. His little playmate just bought me a fucking drink - I can't fucking believe -"

"Karen - what? - jesus Christ --"

"I'm following him Matt- get here now."

She heard the faint protest of his voice as she tucked the phone swiftly into her clutch bag.

He was headed towards the elevator. She knew she had to get in there with him, she had to find out what floor he was going to - the click of her heels on the hard floor turned heads, she felt the room focusing in on the sway of her hips and she had to remind herself that her visibility was her disguise even though she felt so unbearably exposed. 

"Tell me who he is, I'll kill him" he winked as she stepped into the elevator.

She pushed out a strained laugh, "I can do that myself."

"I don't doubt it. Where you heading?"

"Level 7"

His fingers hovered, "a fine coincidence" he said as he eyeballed her greedily. She felt sick. 

"It seems that way doesn't it." The door closed and the elevator ascended. The air clasped at her throat, squeezing, constricting, she watched the buttons light up, she hoped it would stop and someone else would get in but the levels ticked on, four, five, six. 

It took an eternity for the doors to open. She stepped out quickly before he could put a hand on her, texting her room number to Matt's phone and walking quickly, but too quickly. His footsteps stopped somewhere behind her and upon reaching her own room, only a few doors more ahead she turned to find he was still looking at her -

"Pippa.. if you get lonely.." 

Her stomach lurched.

"You'll have to do better than that" she choked the words out - it might have been the most disingenuous thing she'd ever said. She held the key card over the lock and closed the door behind her, falling against the wall, her hands running through her hair, her lungs finally taking in the air that she'd withheld from them the whole time she'd shared her space with that monster -

But then, her heart seized in her chest again at the sound of a knock at the door.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and bloody.

" _ Karen _ , it's me." 

_ Matt _ .

"You're okay?" He asks, holding her close.

"They're a few rooms down from here, I - " 

He nodded, focusing his ears. Listening. She tried to ignore the feeling of his gloved hand, rough against her bare back as he moved around her.

"Should we call it in?" She said, feeling useless but jittering with adrenaline.

He shook his head, hanging it low and adjusting the angle of it towards the sound.

"Well we can't just - "

"Shh" he held out his finger to quiet her, slipping off his glove to run his hand against the wall.

" _ Shit _ \- " the word framed his lips a second before the muffled swoop of a bullet exiting a silenced revolver vibrated through the walls. 

" _ No no no _ ," 

Matt's head tipped back, his fist thumping the wall hard enough to rattle the painting that hung above the bed.

"Well, there's your crime" Karen said, matter of factly and even though the mask was hiding most of his face, his disappointment at her disregard for killing was clear. And it stung, Matt's judgement always stung. 

He made quickly for the sliding doors that led to the balcony.

" _ Matt _ ? - Matt you are  _ not _ going out that damn window." He ignored her and she found herself pacing, her high heels feeling more and more like a hindrance for every second that passed.

"What if it's locked?" 

"It's not." 

Karen shook her head in frustration.

"I need you to call it in," he pulled his burner phone from his pocket and tossed it to her. And before she could think of any other reason to convince him why climbing over a balcony 200 feet up was a bad idea he was already sliding the glass door closed behind him and climbing up onto the balcony ledge.

" _ Shit _ ."

Her hands fumbled with the flip phone, she dialed 911, left the tip-off and hung up, her ears now straining for any sound of Matt, for any sign of what was happening several rooms away. Of course he wanted her to stay here, he wanted her to huddle and hide away in the relative safety of her room, but even though her body ached with fear all she could think about was getting herself closer to the danger. So she pulled the gun from her clutch bag, the last thing she wanted to do was use it - but without it she was a sitting duck.

She walked close to the wall along the eerily quiet corridor. It was claustrophobic. It was too calm. She imagined the hushed whispers and the curious chatter at the other side of the doors as she passed. They echoed her own sentiments,  _ don't go, it's too dangerous. _

But the brawling sounds pushed her forward, the muffled grunts and exertions - and then Matt's particular sound, his controlled rage, his panted breathing, his fists pounding into flesh. She froze for a moment at the clatter of a body being hurled into something, splintering it on impact, and then another gunshot ringing out, hitting something hard, she guessed redirected by the quick reactions of Matt's hands. She cranes her neck, trying to get a better view and finds the door ajar, it's jammed open by the arm of an unconscious body.

_ "Who do you work for _ ?" Matt's voice rasped, a splattering of saliva spraying the man's face - it was him, the executioner.

Matt circled him while he slumped in a chair, his right eye swollen shut, blood flowing thick and scarlet onto his bright white shirt. He was the only one in the room still conscious, if the Specter was here, amongst these bodies, it was impossible to tell who it was.

" _ Which one _ ?" Matt roared, gripping the man's jaw in his gloved hand and forcing him to look at his comrades. But the man's eyes rolled back and he gurgled a repellent laugh, his lack of voice, the most perfect expression of contempt. Karen cast her eyes over the rest of the room. Three unconscious men lay scattered in various places and a corpse of a young man lay face down on a sheet of plastic over by the bed, she swallowed down her grief at his pallor complexion, his face half submerged in a pool of black gelatinous ooze, drained of life - someone's son, someone's brother - 

"Pippa…?" The executioner licked his lips hungrily. "This isn't a good time honey."

"My name's Karen you  _ piece of shit _ ." 

The man smiled malevolently - the gaps between his teeth filled with blood.

"Karen?…not… _Karen_ _Page_ " he strained again against Matt's hand, "I knew I recognised you." he said as he coughed and spluttered.

"Such a shame… I fucking hate journalists"

She stood firm in front of him, "Yeah well, I fucking hate murderous scum bags like you."

Matt's lips curled upwards into an approving smirk.

"Oh oh! The  _ mouth _ on you," he snarled, "is she yours?" He said, glancing at Matt, "I'm jealous."

Matt hissed, low and rumbling, shuffling on his feet, but the man ignored him and instead focused his lustful stare back at Karen as her grip on the hilt of the gun tightened enough to make her knuckles turn white. 

"Oh but baby we could of had such a good time together," his grin widened, "you should have just let me  _ fuck you _ in that sweet, tight, little pus- "

Karen gasped as the man's head jolted back, his words cut from his mouth with the resounding crack of Matt's knuckles across his jaw. His head lulled, and Matt hit him again. And again, until a spray of viscous blood erupted from his nose and coated the cream wall behind them. Karen was sure the final upward blow of Matt's fist would have killed a weaker man - his head seemed to lag behind his body for several moments, limp and heavy under weight of itself until he finally slumped forward onto his own knees. 

_ And Fuck _ .

The violence of it all. 

She should have been repulsed. The sight of the man's mangled lip, his obviously broken nose, the feeling of  _ his _ blood spattered across her cheek - but she couldn't tear her eyes away from Matt, his heaving chest and his fury at the man who disrespected her in front of him. Somehow, underneath the trauma of what her eyes were seeing, amidst the adrenaline and the heavy tang of iron in her nostrils there was something primal that ached with need between her legs. 

"The cops are on their way up" he breathed, "you should get back to your room" he pointed towards the door.

She nodded and left. She didn't want to be around when the cops rolled up to find a corpse. 

Moments later the elevator pinged open and Sgt. Mahoney's voice bellowed in the corridor. She slid down against the back of the door, still holding her gun, her body flinching at the sound of the balcony doors sliding open again -

_ Matt _ .

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As summary states, short and bloody 😂 but we have some sexy Karedevil coming up in chapter 3 🤭


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt receives a phonecall from Karen - "I'm following him Matt, get here now"

_ I bloodied my fists for you, _

_ tasted iron - _

_ savoured it, like wine. _

_ It's not what you deserve _

_ but take it  _

_ as a gift, my sweetheart _

_ I know it's what you like _

  
  


_ "I'm following him Matt, get here now" _

She was going to be the death of him. 

Luckily, when she'd called he'd already been wearing his black suit and a short-cut over several rooftops had gotten him to the hotel in less than 15 minutes. 

The man she'd shared the elevator with, the "executioner" had been unaware of his presence in the corridor and had subsequently sealed his fate long before Matt had entered his hotel room.

_ "If you get lonely.."  _ he'd said.

The stench of his ill intention as clear as Karen's fearful heartbeat was loud.

And unsurprisingly, the thrill of feeling the life-force drain from him, almost to the point of no return at mercy of his fists, had been a pleasure he didn't care to admit. He thinks about how he could probably kill for her - if he had to. And he'd wished he'd never noticed how her blood heated and her arousal stirred between her thighs while she watched him beat a man half to death. 

When he was like this, riled and hot, when the devil was out, he didn't like to be touched. The devil, with all his guilt and pain, and rage, was far too volatile for the fickleness of human hands - 

But not with Karen. 

He'd asked her if she was okay, because it was as sure of a thing as breathing, to put her comfort before his own.

"You're bleeding" she'd said, ignoring him, her palms on his chest.

They'd stood in the hotel bathroom together while the cool water ran over his bloody knuckles.

"So we just wait here?" She said, her voice echoing in the hollow of the bathroom. It was shaky and full of worry in a way only he could hear. 

"The cops know I was there. They're not looking for anyone else, we're safe here for now," he planned on sneaking her out the way he'd come in before the forensics team came to start work with the body. His relationship with the NYPD meant that it was unlikely they would be searching any rooms. These days, they were a little too used to being hand fed their criminals.

She seemed to agree that was a good idea and she leaned her hip heavily against the edge of the counter, handing him a towel to dry his face.

"You know, I'm starting to think I can't stop you from doing whatever the hell you want" he smiled, and although he'd said it with sadness in his heart, he was warmed by the spark of joy it seemed to bring her - the smallest of smiles threatening to blossom on her lips.

"You're just getting that now?" 

He chuckled, "No, but maybe I'm accepting it."

Then she did smile, wide and honest before biting it back quickly. "Maybe I just swapped out one addiction for another." 

He'd never thought about it that way, but it made sense. He doesn't know much about drugs or addiction but then, unlike Karen, he's always known his purpose. 

He thinks about her growing up in a small town, having never had a clear path, never having the guidance of God. It must be tempting then, to crave apathy, to crave numbness. He imagines it calling like a siren. How irresistible it would be. And yet, she's here now, with him, exactly where she's meant to be, and while he fights wars with his fists she fights wars with nothing more than the ferocity of the fire in her belly. 

"Let me" he says, dampening the corner of the towel to wipe a spot of dried blood from her cheek. The red stain that it leaves, a stark reminder of what they'd both been through tonight.

"I thought you were going to kill him." 

He can feel her looking deep into his eyes, looking for the truth. It's her superpower, and it's always terrified him.

"A part of me wanted to."

"Because of me?" She asks.

Of course because of her. But he doesn't say it. He notices that her hands are trembling, her lungs have been straining for some time, taking only the shallowest of breaths.

"It's the shock," he said, sensing her panic and leaving her question unanswered. It frustrates her how her body betrays her in front of him. She makes tight fists with her hands, trying to stop the unstoppable wave that's coming.

"Shh. It's okay" he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, burying himself into the lavender scent of her hair and the soft silkiness of her back.

"I'm proud of you. What you did tonight -"

She sinks into him deeper, it feels like a thank you. 

They stayed there for a long minute. Their foreheads resting against one another, her fingers entwined in one of his hands, the milky skin of her back splayed under his other. 

A few weeks ago they'd kissed. Karen had been a little drunk and he'd been a little horny and he shouldn't have let her, really - but he did. Her fingers had danced over the fly of his jeans just moments before they were interrupted by Foggy, of all people, the person who would be first to say "about time" if they actually got together. And of course he'd dreamed about her that night, the taste of her mouth, what it would have been like to slip his cock inside her - it had been the tinder that he needed to reignite the blaze he knew still burned for her somewhere, underneath all of his pain and guilt. 

Then, the next night, he'd found out that a child had been murdered in Hell's Kitchen, and like a bucket of ice cold water over barely lit embers it was all snuffed out. Put on the back burner once again like it had been so many times before.

So now, after all that, it was almost impossible to ignore the thick heavy tension in the air between them. Her being so close and them being all alone together in a hotel room - Their lips, simply fell together, like pieces of a puzzle, too close not to connect, and maybe he was still simmering from the heady thrill of his fight but as soon as he had a taste of her, he wanted more, and he was quick to delve his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth.

"Matt.." 

Nothing was going to stop him from chasing that sound tonight. He led her to the bed, running his hand up along the endless plane of her thigh, catching her dress and pulling it all the way up and over her head. Since she wasn't wearing any underwear, something he'd unashamedly noticed the minute she opened the door to her room a few hours ago, she was naked before he'd even had a chance to remove any of his own clothes.

_ "Matt- I want _ \- " 

He slipped off his top, his boots. Karen's hands taking place of his as he started unbuckling his belt. 

" _Oh_ _fuck_ \- " she bit her lip at the sight of his cock, hard and straining for her touch. He palmed it in his hand, and _God_ it felt good enough just to touch himself in front of her - how was he going to handle - 

He needed to calm down.

"Can I put my mouth on you first?" 

"God,  _ yes _ ," she breathed.

The slope of her body led him down to the warmth between her legs. He'd underestimated how sensitive she would be to his touch, her hips bucking under the dexterity of his tongue. But she she tasted every bit as good as he imagined, and even better than the taste was the sounds she made -  _ fuck.  _ The grip she had on his hair made it feel like she was going to fall if she were to let go, and when he added a finger into her slick center, he couldn't help but smile against her as she arched against the bed, enjoying every second of the sweet torture he was giving her. 

He decided then that his name sounded best when it was muffled by Karen's thighs against his ears.

After her come-down, he hovered over her, " you still want this?" He asked, she answered with her hand around his cock, putting him exactly where he needed to be, all he had to do was push forward - and when he did, he had no control over the moan that escaped him. 

Finding a rhythm was harder than he thought it would be, she felt too good - he didn't want this to be quick, but the adrenaline in his veins and the still lingering taste of violence in his mouth meant that he didn't want it to be slow either -

"You don't have to be gentle with me" she pleaded, needlily but with a commanding tone that nearly finished him right there and then. That voice. Her voice, sweet and honeyed and innocent, begging him to fuck her harder, he wondered how he'd gone his whole life without this. Without Karen - without the feeling of her wrapped around him, her delicate wrist firm underneath his hand - he was discovering that she liked it when he squeezed a little harder, held her hips a little tighter, and she responded with the scrape of her teeth against his ear lobe, the sting of her nails down his back -

" _ Fuck _ , Karen I can't - "

And she's whimpering, and holding him and he remembers her voice then, he'll remember it forever, husky and desperate, and pining for him - "it's okay -  _ just _ \- don't stop, oh my _ God _ \-  _ Matt _ "

And he's never been so utterly engulfed by a person in his life - the nape of her neck is the most serene place he's ever rested, and he can feel the pull of her smile in her cheeks. He doesn't want to acknowledge what his senses are telling him, he doesn't want to ever move from here.

"I'm so sorry Karen," he says.

She sighs wishfully, "I know." 

He's still inside her, softening, and he'd give anything just to roll off and fall asleep in her arms but the reality of where they are tugs at his insides - there's a crime scene down the hall and the time has come for them to go home. 

* * *

  
  
Matt had to lean up onto his toes to kiss her against the wall after they left the hotel through one of the back doors. It was the small hours of the morning and the light rain was pleasantly refreshing against her still burning hot skin. She got into a cab as she watched him disappear into the shadows. It all felt like a dream and she'd have believed it was if she couldn't still feel the moisture of him between her legs.

When she reached his apartment he was already there, waiting for her. He took her back to bed, back to safety, and confessed under the heat of her thighs that he loved her, that he'd always loved her.

Sleeping was easy after that.

When morning came and the horrors of the night before still stung like a bad dream, Matt was there to remind her that she didn't need to be scared. She'd curled up in his arms again and savoured just a few more minutes -

She thought, whatever the next storm was going to bring, it didn't stand a chance in hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ended up being way more angsty that originally intended 😂 Matt's POV always ends up being angsty does anyone else find that? 😂 He's such a puppy. Anyway hope you enjoy ❤️


End file.
